


16 Going on 37

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 13 Going on 30, Abuse, Bullying, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>16 year old Sherlock "fast forwards" into his 37 year old body.  Who is the man who shares his flat?  And why is there a box of condoms in his night stand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	16 Going on 37

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a cute little chick flick called "13 Going on 30" and it inspired me. Warnings for bullying.

Sherlock flinched and looked around the room, confused. Suddenly he found himself in a strange place. The room was messy and there were objects he kept in his bedroom. But where was his bedroom? Last he remembered he was at school and his bedroom was back in the Holmes manor house. Frowning, he made his way to the window and looked out at the city street. 

“Sherlock?” A blond man stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at him.

Sherlock regarded the man. “Who are you?”

“Sherlock…” The man smiled and shook his head. “Are you alright? Did one of your experiments backfire?”

“My experiments?” Sherlock’s eyes flicked around the small flat and found a chemistry set on the kitchen table. Mummy hated it when he left his chemistry set out.

“Are you alright?” The man quickly approached Sherlock and looked him over.

“I… need a smoke.”

“Well you’re not getting one. You’re quitting, remember?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No. I don’t. Who are you?”

“You don’t remember me? What is the last thing you remember?” The man squinted at him as if assessing him.

“I… was at school… in my dorm room. Edward Pierce had just come by to annoy me.”

“What level of school?” 

“Secondary.” Sherlock looked away from the older man, uncomfortable with the look he was receiving. “Why are my things here? They should be at home.”

“Sherlock… you left secondary ages ago. You graduated in 1994? That was 19 years ago.”

Sherlock moved away from the man, horrified. “What? No! It’s 1992!”

“I’m sorry. It’s 2013.” 

“WHO are you?” Sherlock demanded. 

“I’m John Watson. We’re…” John paused, frowning a bit, thinking. “We’re flat mates.”

“You’re lying! I can tell. You were going to say something else!” Sherlock took a step away from the man. “What are we really?”

“Just… flat mates… friends. We’re friends…”

“I don’t have any friends! No one wants to be my friend! They all laugh at me and call me Freak!”

“Sherlock… you have to calm down!” John raised his hands in a pacifying way. “I’m your friend.”

“Prove it!” Sherlock snarled!

“How can I prove it?” John was taken aback. 

“Tell me something about me I would only tell a friend!”

“That’s just it, Sherlock… you’re not very forthcoming with details about yourself or your childhood. I know practically nothing!” 

“See! Obvious you’re not my friend!” Sherlock announced.

John frowned and shook his head. “Sherlock… Why would I be here?”

“Maybe you came to annoy me.”

“Annoy you? Annoy you by keeping my things in your flat? Look around… not all of this stuff is YOURS. This mug over here… MINE! This computer… MINE!”

Sherlock stared at the binder looking object John indicated. “What is that?”

“What?”

“You said… computer? That is not a computer.”

“This is a computer in 2013!” John lifted the object and showed Sherlock as he turned it on. “Look! Windows 7 copyrighted 2009!”

“It’s so… tiny!”

“Yes… well the dinosaurs we had back in 1992 were rather large… things got smaller.”

At that moment Sherlock’s mobile went off. “Why do I hear music?”

“It’s your mobile!” John went for it and turned it on. “Hey, Greg, it’s John… No, Sherlock can’t help right now we’re in the middle of a crisis. His brain has gone funny… he thinks it’s 1992… I imagine he’s around… 16? Born in ’76 means he would be 16 in ‘92… Will do! Thanks, Greg.” Lifting the mobile, John showed Sherlock. “Telephone.”

“That is NOT a telephone!” Sherlock replied.

“Oh yes it is! You just heard me talking to another one of your friends, DI Gregory Lestrade from Scotland Yard.”

“No… it’s not…”

“We don’t even HAVE a landline, Sherlock… it’s all these.” John showed the mobile again. Scrolling through the phone he found the pictures and held up a photo. “See? Us! And another one of us!” 

“That’s not me…” Sherlock glared at the image of his grown up self. “That’s… he looks like father.”

“It’s you. You’re 37. Here’s a photo from your birthday party.” John showed a picture of a rather annoyed looking Sherlock holding a fairy cake with a lit candle on it, surrounded by smiling faces. “You, me, Lestrade, Mycroft… Anthea took this picture.”

“Mycroft?” Sherlock studied the picture with interest as John blew it up to focus on Mycroft. “Well… I’ll be… he looks like Uncle Mortimer… but he looks like Mycroft too.”

“That’s because he IS Mycroft.”

Sherlock shook his head and sighed. “This is a little too much right now…”

“Perhaps you should go lay down. The bedroom is over there.” John pointed to the bedroom door.

“Maybe when I wake up it will be 1992 again.” Sherlock wandered into the bedroom, surprised at the décor. It was rather clean. The chest of drawers held clothes… there was a closet. Poking through the nightstand he found an open package of condoms and lubrication specially formulated for anal sex if the bottle’s label was to be believed. His eyes focused on the bedroom door a moment, thinking about the man outside… his hesitation. Quickly he searched through the waste basket and found two used condoms wrapped in tissue. Putting it all back he lay down on the bed. It seemed that John Watson hadn’t told him everything about their “friendship.” Carefully he reached down and touched his arse, not feeling any pain. What did it all mean?

Picking up the condoms and lube he left the bedroom to face the man John who still sat in the living room. “Who’s bedroom is that?”

“It’s… yours. Why do you ask?” John raised an eyebrow.

Sherlock set the condoms down on the coffee table. “They come in a package of thirteen. There are six in the box… two are used in the waste bin. Are you suggesting that I shag females?”

“Um…” John’s eyes glued to the condom box. “No.”

“Good!” Sherlock set the lube down on the table next to the condoms. “Because the bottle suggests this is specially formulated for buggering.”

“Right…” John stared hard at the supplies. “Anything else?”

“My bum doesn’t hurt… even though one of those used condoms is less than 24 hours old.”

John shifted a bit, trying to hide his wince. 

“Meaning I was the one wearing it.” Sherlock crossed his arms and frowned at John. “I ask again… who are you?”

“Sherlock…” John shook his head and sighed. “What does it matter? You’re not even YOU! You’re 16 year old you in your 37 year old body! Mentally you’re… you’re just a kid!” 

Sherlock bent over and braced his hands on the arms of John’s chair. “I’m shagging you.”

“Don’t be stupid. We switch!” John pushed Sherlock back so he could get up off of his chair. 

“We switch?” Sherlock looked dumbfounded. 

“Yes. I’m sore because you were a little rough last night… if you really must know.”

“We… switch?” Sherlock was stuck on the thought, trying to imagine himself in the position of the couplings he had seen at school. 

“Great… you’re freaking out on me…” John picked up the mobile and called a number. “Yeah… Mycroft… I have a little problem. It’s Sherlock. Physically he’s fine but he… he thinks that it’s 1992… and he just figured out that we’re in a sexual relationship. I think I just broke his mind… Yeah? That would be great! Thank you!” John put away his mobile. “Mycroft will be here soon. We’ll try and get your brain sorted. What were you doing before you realized you were here?”

“I told you… Edward Pierce walked into my room. He wants me to do his biology report for him.”

“Does that happen often?” 

“I’m told it’s the only purpose for my intelligence… to get these bloody tossers a passing grade.”

“And if you say no?”

Sherlock shook his head. “They make my life WORSE. More slamming into me in the halls… More dunking my head in the privy… More stealing my pants and leaving them around for other people to find… More shouts of ‘Freak’ across the quad or when I go to dinner… IF I go to dinner. I’ve taken to eating in my room.”

“You were bullied?” John sighed. “God, Sherlock…”

“So… do I do your biology reports?”

“What? NO! I’m a doctor. I assist you. You’re… a consulting detective. You solve crimes.”

Sherlock’s eyes lit up. “Crimes? Such as…?”

John cocked his head to the side, thinking of something that might interest 16 year old Sherlock… like something 15 year old Sherlock investigated. “Carl Powers.” 

“The boy who drowned?” Sherlock’s eyes went wide and he stepped closer to John. “It was murder, wasn’t it? His shoes were missing so the murderer…”

“…Took his shoes. Yes! And you got your hands on those shoes… and solved the case.”

“That’s… That’s…”

“Amazing! Yes… We all thought so.”

“We?”

“Lestrade… the Yard… You solved it very quickly once you got the shoes.”

“Who was it?”

John flinched. “Someone… Someone who took you away from me. You faked your own death to stop him from hurting me.” Shaking his head John sat down again. “His name was Jim Moriarty… and he’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“To force you to act… either to kill yourself or to let me, Lestrade and our landlady die. If he was dead he couldn’t recall the assassins… so he forced your hand.”

“And I chose… to save you?”

“Yes… you were gone for six months to hunt down the assassins while I tried to clear your name. He knew things about you… and he twisted them to make you look like the bad guy… and make himself look like the victim.”

At that moment the door to the flat opened and Mycroft stepped in.

“That was quick.” John frowned at the elder Holmes.

“I was in the neighborhood. When did this start?”

John checked his watch. “Maybe an hour ago? I wasn’t really paying attention to time.”

Sherlock stared at his elder relative. “You really do look like Uncle Mortimer…” 

“Our mother’s brother…” Mycroft translated for John. “I take after Mummy’s side and Sherlock… well… Sherlock looks a lot like Father.” 

“If he was really my father…” Sherlock muttered.

“How can you say that? Look at you! You grew up to look just like him.”

“Or Uncle Siegfried!” 

“Not THAT again… I had extensive genetic testing done to prove that you are our Father’s ungrateful son.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I still say Mum was deceived the night I was conceived.” 

“Please stop this…” Mycroft rolled his own eyes to the ceiling. “I forgot how obsessed you were at 16 with this matter…”

“Father was impotent! Uncle took his place!”

“Sherlock… let it go!” Taking a deep breath Mycroft assessed his brother. “Physically you do look alright… but it’s your mind. What do you remember?”

“I’ve already told this guy…” Sherlock waved at John.

“John.” John supplied.

“I told John… Edward Pierce wanted his biology report.” 

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and turned to John. “It is before ‘the Incident’.” 

“What incident?” John asked.

“The one that got Sherlock expelled.”

“Expelled?” John cried out.

“He was reinstated. But something changed in him… something that laid the groundwork for his time at University and his drug habit.”

Sherlock stared at Mycroft, confused.

“And… did this Edward do it to him?” John asked.

“Indeed… he was the key player.”

“What did he do?”

“Have you ever wondered, John Watson… why my brother remained chaste for so long? Why he… was very hesitant even around you to show his affections?”

“Was he humiliated?”

“Naked… cast out into a snowy quad among boys with grabby hands… taunted and teased. Cruel words for a boy who had yet to fully hit puberty. An instructor intervened before they could get too far. The school thought it was his way of showing off… acting out… until they were informed of their mistake and the real culprit was expelled in his stead. Sherlock suffered at their hands… their words did lasting damage to his psyche.”

Sherlock stood, head bowed, shaking his head. “They’re always so… mean.”

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t know.”

Sherlock stiffened in John’s embrace but quickly relaxed. This Sherlock hadn’t yet been broken. “You’re… a nice man.”

John rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. “I am a very nice man… and so are you.”

“I’m not very nice…” Sherlock replied. “I’m a…”

“No…” John let go to catch Sherlock’s face in his hands. “You’re not. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I wish I had a friend like you… back where I’m from.”

“I would have protected you. I would have reminded you every day that you are glorious… and brilliant… and that lot can just piss off! I would defend your honor… and laugh with you. I love to laugh with you. We laugh about the silliest things… And I would never ever hurt you.”

Sherlock nodded, eyes closed, leaning into the shorter man. “How old were you in 1992?”

“I was 20.”

“Too old for me…” Sherlock sniffled. John was suddenly gone and Sherlock was back in his dorm room. Looking to the door he saw Edward Pierce walk in. 

“So… Freak… done with the assignment?”

“Get out.” Sherlock glared at the other boy. 

“What? You want me to leave? I thought we could… you know… have a little fun.” Edward smiled and casually crossed the room.

Sherlock thought of John and what Mycroft had told him. He had to be on his guard against Edward and the other boys or he would be hurt. “Piss off! Don’t come here unless I invite you… which will be never, by the way.”

Edward frowned and stepped back towards the door.

“I told you, get OUT!” Sherlock stamped his foot. “Do your own homework!”

“You’ll regret this, Freak!”

“Threatening me? I’m not afraid of you. And even if I was… my brother works for the government. Shall I ring him up?”

Edward went pale. “Watch yourself!” Quickly he left.

Sherlock collapsed on the bed and sighed, thinking John might be proud… and call him brilliant… and laugh with him.

^.~

Years passed and Sherlock went to university. Although he DID experiment with drugs it was for silencing his mind and not salving his heart or rendering himself numb. But Sherlock also ignored the others, not because touch bothered him but somewhere out there another man was more deserving of Sherlock’s heart… although the young man had forgotten his future lover’s name. All he could remember was the warm arms that held him and a voice calling him “Love.”

When Sherlock finally got clean and started to help the Yard solve their tough cases, Sherlock felt it was a proper fit… even though he couldn’t remember why. It was as if something he once knew clicked into place. 

And when Sherlock was 34 he looked up from his microscope at St. Bart’s and saw the man he had mostly forgotten. It all came rushing back and trust was immediate. John offered him a small smile and Sherlock gave him a grin and a wink.

Of course John was in denial of his sexuality… but Sherlock’s casual touches encouraged the other man to reciprocate. Abandoning the gloves, Sherlock allowed his fingers to freely wander John’s exposed skin, making the other man smile. And when Sherlock had forced to jump by Carl Powers’ murderer it had been for love… love of the man who stood below, watching him. No madman could take his John away.

Six months later after three assassins were taken care of he returned to John, slipping into the other man’s bed as he slept. Now that he had made himself worthy of John they could be together as they were supposed to be.

John opened his eyes and blinked at the detective. “I missed you. Mycroft told me… last month…”

“I know. I missed you too.”

“Never leave me again!”

“I won’t. I promise!” And Sherlock kissed his John, wrapping his arms around the other man. 

“I love you.” John whispered, curling up against his detective. “I should have told you before…”

“I already knew.” Sherlock smiled and held his doctor closer. “I’ve always known. And I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“Always, Sherlock…” John rolled on top and they kissed each other senseless.

Fin


End file.
